


Fight for Your Right to Party (On the Enterprise)

by azephirin



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: st_xi_kink, Consent, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Drunkenness, Enterprise, Established Relationship, Hangover, Kink Meme, Morning After, Multi, Nudity, Public Nudity, Ridiculousness, Semipublic Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like they have anything better to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight for Your Right to Party (On the Enterprise)

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly the most ridiculous fic I have ever written, in a long and storied history of ridiculous fics. Written for [this three-part prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/5912.html?thread=14173208#t14173208) on [](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/). If you don't recognize the title reference, crawl out from underneath your rock.

They were a two-day hop from Earth's atmosphere, at the end of their five-year mission, safely orbiting the Federation-owned planet Cleis III while they waited out the requisite week-long quarantine to which all returning crews were subject. There was little to do except pack their things and wander the halls.

And, of course, finish off all the alcohol and other interesting substances they wouldn't be allowed to bring back Earthside with them. Treaty Concerning Interplanetary Transportation of Organic Materials and all that.

The captain had the greatest confidence that his crew could put everything to good use.

+||+||+

 

His front was warm but his back was cold. How had that happened? All of him should be warm. Jim tried to turn over to remedy this tragic state of affairs, but a pair of arms—ooh, very warm, so nice, mmm—tightened around him and the chest that was cushioning his head rumbled discontentedly.

"My back is cold," Jim informed the owner of the chest.

"Because you took all your damn fool clothes off, idiot," Bones said.

Jim contemplated this statement. He allowed that it might have been true. The ship was very temperate, after all, and five years in close quarters tends to destroy most illusions of modesty.

"Still cold," Jim announced.

"Oh, for God's sake." Bones sat up, dislodging Jim's head.

"Hey! I was using that! Also, why do you have pants on?"

"Because I wasn't stupid enough to challenge a Vulcan to a drinking contest." Bones stood up and helped Jim to his feet. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Bones was very solid, and he was standing still, and Jim was in favor of both of these things. He leaned against Bones until those arms settled around him again. "Only if you come with me."

Bones's sigh was long-suffering, but his hands were gentle as they stroked Jim's hair and back. "Yeah, of course I will."

+||+||+

 

As they started to make their way to Jim's quarters, McCoy took a look around the room. Sulu had collapsed on the couch several hours ago and didn't seem to have moved, but his chest was rising and falling steadily, he was smiling, and his head was in Chekov's lap. There were what appeared to be fragments of mathematical equations and Cyrillic characters doodled apparently at random all over his face. Chekov, for his part, was equally unconscious, but more or less in a sitting position, head back, mouth open, marker dangling precariously from one hand.

Scotty was across the room, sprawled out on the sandwich table, snoring orchestrally. He'd have a monster of a hangover, McCoy thought, but at least he hadn't been drinking on an empty stomach.

Inside Jim's quarters, McCoy maneuvered him into bed, then began to climb in after him. Jim waved a sleep-loose hand in protest. "Take your jeans off. Or whatever."

Jim would be flushed and pliant, but he was so, so drunk. "Jim, I'm not—"

Jim's smile was drowsy and affectionate. "Isn't a sex thing. Just like how you feel next to me. All of you."

"Yeah," said McCoy. "Okay."

It felt good to lie together like this, warm and close and on the verge of dreams.

+||+||+

 

Nyota's eyes were heavy-lidded, her pupils dilated, and Spock wondered why she sometimes indulged in more alcoholic beverages than she could metabolize within a reasonable time. She did not do it often, but the results were...fascinating on the rare occasions that she did.

"Commander," she purred, following him into the turbolift as the doors closed. "Don't you have some orders for me?"

"Nyota, I hardly think this is the time—"

She wrapped one arm around his neck while pressing the "stop" button with her other hand. "As your subordinate officer, I submit myself to whatever your will might be." As if to punctuate the sentence, her hand found his penis and began rubbing it through his trousers.

Spock took a deep breath and tried to focus elsewhere and will his arousal away. "Command override A-G-four-seven-one; computer, operate turbolift as normal."

Without breaking the maddening rhythm of her hand, Nyota kissed him and smiled. "You're so cute. Command override Q-Z-eight-seven-nine; computer, pause turbolift."

To Spock's utter surprise, it came to a halt.

"Nyota, how, may I ask—"

"Won it from Kirk in a poker game. Promised I'd only use it once and for the forces of good." She moved her hand away—but only to press her body against his, let the cradle of her hips tell him where he could be inside her, and how, and when.

The probability that she equated "when" with "now" was great.

"Want you so much," she whispered. "Up against the wall, don't even take our clothes off, just hold me by the hips and fuck me until I'm screaming your name. Don't care if you leave bruises—actually, it's good if you do. Like a tattoo only we can see." Her belly, her hips, her thighs all rolled against him, and Spock closed his eyes and again tried desperately for control. "I know you're hard for me, Spock. I can feel it. Don't lie to me."

His hands, he realized, had settled on her hips, far too close to the delicious curve of her bottom. He moved them to rest on either side of her face, and stroked her eyebrows with his thumbs. "Nyota, I have never lied to you, and I do not plan to start. Of course I desire you. It is plain that I desire you."

"Mmm," she agreed, rocking against him sinuous and slow.

"Your ability to consent is impaired, and no creature of any moral value would take advantage of this state for the sake of his or her own pleasure." He could see her eyes roll, and he turned them then, suddenly, pressing her against the side of the turbolift, letting her know every millimeter of his hardness, feeling her shudder. "You suggest that I do not desire you. Nothing could be further from the truth. Tomorrow, when you have metabolized the alcohol and recovered from any aftereffects, I shall demonstrate this to you. You will lean against your desk, and I will kneel in front of you and lick you—and suck you, and anything else that may occur to me—until you are begging me to allow you to climax. And I will let you, at such time as I wish. Then you will push me onto the bed, onto my back, and I will watch you sink down onto me, watch your eyes close and your neck arch, watch your hair fall all around you. Watch while you ride me, as slow or as fast as you want to. I will be yours, Nyota, if it is not clear that I am already. I will touch you—watch your nipples harden, then stroke your clitoris until you're crying out, until your orgasm is inevitable. And then you will pin my hands and it will be inevitable for me, too, and the only thing I will remember in those moments will be your name."

He kissed her then, hard, and she whispered, "Please."

"Yes. Tomorrow, when you are able to consent, Nyota, yes."

"Why do you have to be a good guy?" she asked, still in a whisper.

"Because that is the very, very least of what you deserve."

+||+||+

 

"Spock?"

"Yes, Nyota? How is your head?"

"Better. Thanks. Did you...mean all those things you said last night?"

"Do you know me to say things I do not mean?"

"No. It's just...you don't usually talk that way."

"I was...unusually inspired."

"So, uh...when can I take you up on all that?"

"I am at your command."

"I like the sound of that. Wait. Oh my God."

"What troubles you?"

"How many security cameras does the turbolift have, and who has access to the footage?"


End file.
